


if we only die once, I wanna die with you

by Demonfeathers



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Fix-It, Murder Family, WIP, oh god that finale has destroyed me forever I needed to purge this, spoilers for the season finale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 08:00:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1680782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demonfeathers/pseuds/Demonfeathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham takes another moment to consider Hannibal Lecter's offer at their Last Supper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Is it ideal for Jack to die?” Hannibal asks Will as they eat supper for perhaps the last time in Hannibal’s dining room. Will muses on his answer for a moment before speaking.

“It’s necessary. What happens to Jack has been pre-ordained.” He skirts the question. It isn’t ideal, of course, and to show too much enthusiasm for Jack’s death would allow Hannibal to see through him in a moment. Besides, it may in fact be necessary for Jack to die in order for the Chesapeake Ripper to be brought in at last. They’re hoping it’s avoidable of course, but Will is realistic with himself.

“We could disappear now. Tonight.” Hannibal sounds different. Less analytic curiosity in his voice than before. Will looks up slowly. “Feed your dogs. Leave a note for Alana and never see her or Jack again.” Hannibal watches him carefully. “Almost polite.”

Will swallows, looking down at his plate and away from Hannibal’s eyes. “Then this would be our Last Supper,” he says, somewhat feebly, buying time to formulate an answer.

            Not only would leaving now destroy all of Will’s plans, it was unlike Hannibal to suggest something so impulsive. They had everything about their escape planned out to the letter. Why on earth would Hannibal suggest leaving now, beyond to just see what Will would say? To test how he would answer?

            So he looked up to brush Hannibal off with a slightly shaky smile and go back to safer grounds, but the look on Hannibal’s face stopped him, the smile fading as he straightened slightly in his seat.

            Hannibal was watching him with unusually serious eyes. He wasn’t waiting to see what Will would do in a hypothetical situation. It wasn’t just curiosity in his face.

            “You’re serious,” Will murmured, searching Hannibal’s face. “You mean that. You would leave tonight.”

            “Yes,” Hannibal answered. “If you would go with me, I would leave with you tonight. We could forget about Jack and Alana and the FBI. We could go right now.”

There was a tension in his face, in his shoulders, a look in his eyes that Will couldn’t quite decipher. He leaned forward slightly, head tilting as he tried to figure it out. “Why?” he whispered.

Hannibal stared back at him, dark eyes searching Will just as much as Will was him. “Because you’re worth more than all the rest of it,” he said finally, voice just a touch hoarse. “Because I would rather have you with me than have my grand exit.”

Will stares. His mind stutters for a moment as emotion surges through him. He- he wants this. He wants it badly. He curses himself roundly for it- surely, after everything, he would know better than to allow himself to still want- he breaks eye contact and stares at his plate instead, breath leaving him in a huff. In his lap, he curls his fingers into fists to try and stop his hands trembling. “I-“

He stops, jaw working as he tries to gather his thoughts. Hannibal waits, eyes narrowing slightly as he watches Will struggle with his answer.

Will wants it. God, does he want it. It’s wrong, and he hates himself for wanting it, for still caring about this monster who has taken everything he every cared about from him piece by meticulous piece. But he does, he wants it so badly in this moment that he can almost taste it, and he lets himself imagine, for a moment, if he were really who he’s been pretending to be all this time. If he were really the man who killed Freddie Lounds, and mounted Randall Tier’s body as the masterpiece it was of his own accord and not out of necessity. He lets himself imagine a life where he could say ‘yes’, pure and simple, and that would be that, and Hannibal would finally truly be the only thing in Will’s life. It would be so terribly perfect, to just give in and let himself become the creature who’s skin he’s been inhabiting for these past months, to let the antlers at his back truly become his.

He looks up and meets Hannibal’s eyes somewhat desperately, trying to remind himself of the monster beneath this man’s skin, to remind himself why he’s been setting up the trap he has.

Mistake.

Will meets Hannibal’s eyes, and he sees. The monster that Hannibal is, his true self laid bare, stares back at Will across their dinner, sacrificial lamb between them the way there always has been. But his eyes… Will lets himself into Hannibal’s head, one last time, one last chance on the table between them.

_You see? whispers Hobbs in the back of his head._

_Yes, Will answers. Yes, I see._

Hannibal cared about him. He knew that, had known that. But this… Hannibal’s offer was genuine. He wanted Will to leave with him, because Will was the most important thing. If Will was with him, the rest of the world could burn. If Will came with him, right now, there would be no going back, not for either of them. There would be nothing for them but each other.

Will wondered if maybe that wasn’t already true.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Let’s go.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will works through his feelings and thoughts after his impulse decision.

Hannibal smiles, wide and bright and as happy as Will thinks he's ever seen him, and pushes back his chair to stand abruptly. He holds out his hand to Will, and Will- is he really going to do this, abandon everything they've worked so hard for, at this, the last crucial moment, because Hannibal Lecter asked him to run away with him, is he really going to let Hannibal win just like that- takes his hand, and lets Hannibal pull him to his feet.

Standing there in front of Hannibal, who's smiling at him with something almost like relief in his eyes, he doesn't feel like he's lost.

“You’ll have to return to Wolf Trap, pack a bag and feed the dogs. I’m sorry you’ll have to leave them behind, but Alana will take good care of them.” Hannibal starts to clear the dinner table, moving with a purpose now as he strides into the kitchen. Will follows him.

“Of course. I’ll be back in a few hours, then. Anything in particular I should pack for? Hot, cold?” Hannibal moves around his kitchen, opening his fridge and taking out containers and packages, removing anything that might be… contaminated. He’ll dispose of it before they leave.

“Just whatever you find necessary. It might be wise to avoid packing for any particular weather conditions, so as not to tip off Alana or Jack about where in the world we may be headed. We can always buy necessities when we get there. If there’s anything of sentimental value you can’t bare leaving behind that’s reasonable to bring, go ahead and pack it. I wouldn’t get too hung up on such things, however. We are planning to make a new life.” Hannibal glances up from sorting through his fridge to look at Will, staring at him seriously. “It’s the future we’re building now. It’s time to let go of the past. Leave it, and move on. Forgive and forget.”

Will nods slowly, struck by the weight in Hannibal’s words. There’s still something he’s missing here, but if he stops to dwell on anything too long he’ll begin to second guess himself and everything will fall to pieces. Will has to stop himself from laughing in self-deridement at that. As if it hadn’t already fallen to pieces. Look at where he is now, after all.

“I’ll be back in a bit, then,” Will says, turning away and heading for the door.

Hannibal says nothing, watching him walk away. He stares after him through the empty doorway until he hears the front door shutting, then lets his eyes slide shut as he breathes out slowly. After a moment, he turns back to clearing the kitchen. There is work to be done, however tonight turns out.

 

Will doesn’t let himself think the entire drive back to Wolf Trap. He focuses on the road in front of him, on the highway sliding away beneath his headlights, and keeps his mind blank. If he lets himself think about it, he’s liable to crash the damn car. Hannibal offered him everything that appealed to the deep dark parts of him that he’s tried so hard to cut out, to bury, to bend to his own uses, and Will had broken and given the wrong answer. Right answer. Wrong answer? Right. Right? Will curses, slapping a suddenly trembling hand against the top of the steering wheel in frustration. He determinedly turns on the radio, cranking the volume to drown out his rushing thoughts and doubts.

When Will finally pulls up to the house, the music has managed to disrupt his thoughts enough that he can shut it off and climb out of the car without hesitation. He unlocks his front door, greeting his dogs and managing to smile at all the delighted furry bodies that come running to meet him, a bittersweet pang going through him at the thought that after tonight, he wouldn’t be seeing them again. He kneels on the floor, reaching out to pet them each and murmur quiet encouragements to them, to take in this moment for all it’s worth.

He can’t stay on the floor with them forever, though, so eventually Will pulls himself to his feet with a heavy heart, heading for the kitchen to fill their food bowls for the last time. He gives them all extra, just in case, before heading to his closet to dig out a suitcase and start packing up clothes. He makes a circuit through the house as he goes to put the suitcase in the car, looking for anything that he would miss, but takes little beside a few pictures of his father and the old collar of his first dog, which he’s kept since he was a boy. It’s with a slight pang that Will realizes that there’s really very little here that he would truly miss besides his dogs, and they can’t come with him. He’s lived a sparse life, and the things that matter most to him are the precious few connections he’s made. Of those, he’s about to cut away all but Hannibal, and at last he can no longer avoid thinking about it.

He sits down on his sofa heavily. Is it worth it? For months now, everything he’s worked for, every action he’s taken, has been for the sole purpose of getting closer to Hannibal Lecter, so that he can bring him down. And now, here at the end, he’s fallen so deep into his role as best friend to Hannibal that the line has blurred away and he can no longer bring himself to go through with it. Hannibal Lecter offered him a life with no one but himself, and Will has accepted. He’s walking into this with his eyes wide open, and now that he’s finally slipped on the knife’s edge he can’t even tell whose blood it’s going to be coating the blade. His own, Hannibal’s, Jack’s. Alana’s.

Abigail’s.

Will’s breath hitches, and he lets the memory of the last time he and Hannibal spoke of her flood his mind. The regret in Hannibal’s eyes, the emotion that had overcome them both in that darkened room, with the fire light flickering behind them and the wine loosening their tongues. Will controls his breathing, analyzing that moment for the hundredth time, as he had during countless sleepless nights since it happened. As every time, he looked into the monster’s eyes and found the emotion in them true, a genuine response displayed to Will and Will alone. And for the hundredth time, Will found his ability to harden his heart against Hannibal slipping inexorably out of reach. There was no use for it- no matter what happened, Will would never be able to hate Hannibal, and to see him dead or behind bars would break Will’s heart. He had convinced himself that it didn’t matter, what was one broken heart against the lives of countless people, spared from Hannibal’s dinner table, but that conviction cracked and crumbled every time he spoke to Hannibal, every time Hannibal looked through Will to the dark parts of himself he had buried so desperately and brought them to the light, praised them and encouraged them and _admired_ them.  Hannibal had warped him, changed him, and there was no going back, not ever again.

On the other hand, Will knew that he had changed Hannibal too. He had brought Hannibal’s humanity to light just as surely as Hannibal had brought his more bestial side out, and Will knew that his tangled emotions and codependence were far from one-sided. It was the reason he was here, after all. Hannibal cared about him. Truly and deeply, more so than anyone else had ever cared about Will before. Cared about _him_ , and not just what he could do for them, be for them. Oh, Hannibal’s interest was far from innocent and pure- Will nearly started laughing at the thought- but it was truer than anyone else’s.

There was no one else in the world who could ever be what Hannibal was to Will. Never again would he have anything approaching the relationship, the understanding, he had with Hannibal Lecter. It was dark, and twisted, and it was everything that Will had ever tried to purge from himself. It was addictive, and it was wrong. Will stared desperately at his coffee table, trying to convince himself that he needed to stop this before it got out of control, before he actually boarded that plane with Hannibal and left with him forever. He shouldn’t want this (shouldn’t empathize with killers, shouldn’t love the taste of blood on his tongue, shouldn’t see mad men and beasts pacing the shadows everywhere he goes, shouldn’t be reassured by the flash of antlers in the corner of his eyes).

Will stood up, and headed for his car. He had a stop he needed to make.

 

Will parked his car well away from his destination and walked the rest of the way. He paused on the other side of the street, standing in the shadows, watching the lights in the windows of the house across from him. He frowned, feeling a memory tugging at the back of his mind. He’d stood here before, seen this scene before… there had been snow on the ground then, and the weight of a gun in his hand. There had been someone else with him….

He closed his eyes and tilted his head as the memory came back to him through his fever dream of the time. Gideon. He’d been here to stop Gideon. Will opened his eyes, taking a shaking breath. He’d come here before to save her. And he was here to do it again.

Will walked with purpose across the yard to Alana’s front porch, mounting the steps carefully to avoid creaks. In the middle of the porch, where it would be in full view of anyone coming out of the house but safe from being swept aside by the opening door, Will knelt and set down a note. After a moment’s hesitation, he took his phone out of his pocket and set it on top of the paper to keep it from blowing away.

With one last long look at the door in front of him, Will turned and walked away.

In the morning, Alana would find the phone and the note on her porch as she left for work. Her hands would shake as she took in the words on the paper, and she would fumble Will’s phone as she scrambled to pull her own out of her purse to call Jack.

_‘Alana,_

_I’m so sorry. Please take good care of the dogs for me._

_Forgive me.’_

_~Will_


	3. Chapter 3

The drive back to Hannibal’s house is much shorter than the endless drive to Wolf Trap had seemed. When Hannibal lets Will back into the house, holding his suitcase in one hand, he seems to sense something about Will’s mental state has changed between now and when he left. He isn’t particularly surprised- he knew letting Will go to Wolf Trap by himself would give him time to back out of this, to change his mind. Hannibal had been ready to bolt, had been on the lookout for vehicles surrounding the house since the moment Will walked out the door. That Will is here instead with something frozen in his eyes, some emotion almost like grief in the tension in his shoulders, can mean one of two things. Hannibal touches his fingers to the inside of his wrist where he has his curved blade meant for gutting fish stashed away, and takes Will’s coat to hang it up. They still have business to discuss, after all. The night is far from over.

“Come. There are still some arrangement to be made before we can depart. You may leave your suitcase in the entrance hall,” Hannibal tells him as he turns back around, gesturing for Will to lead the way back to the sitting room.

“So, you are packed lightly, I see. That’s good. The dogs are taken care of?” Hannibal asks as he steps past Will to turn on a few of the lamps in the room.

Standing just inside the doorway, Will hesitates. Hannibal turns to him questioningly, and Will swallows, eyes roaming over the room before settling on a point just over Hannibal’s right shoulder.

“…Yes,” he says finally, “they’re taken care of the best I can manage.”

Hannibal watches him carefully.

“Before we leave, Will, there is something I must show you. A surprise,” he says, smiling faintly. “I’ve been saving it for this moment.”

Will blinks, tilting his head as his forehead furrows in confusion.

“A surprise?”

Hannibal smiles more fully. “Just a moment, Will. I’ll be right back,” he says, walking from the room and leaving Will standing in the sitting room, bewildered.

It doesn’t take long for Hannibal to return, walking back into the room empty handed. Will’s confusion grows, and he stares at Hannibal in obvious incomprehension until Hannibal stands aside and gestures to the doorway.

Will looks back just in time for Abigail to walk slowly into the room.

She looks uncertain, her hands fumbling together before she puts them to her sides, fingers fluttering with the edge of her shirt. She smiles weakly at him, whole and alive and well, her hair down to cover her missing ear and her customary scarf around her throat to cover the scar there, just as she always had it. She looks just like Will remembers, as though she had walked right out of his mind into Hannibal’s sitting room.

Will thinks maybe he should take another breath soon, but he’s afraid the moment will shatter and she’ll disappear again if he does.

“Will,” Hannibal says gently from his place off to the side.

Will sucks in a breath, dizzying and desperate, the last gasp of the dying.

“Abigail,” he says, reaching out his hand and taking a stumbling step forward, his knees weak.

Abigail stares at him, eyes wide and her mouth trembling, before she starts to stammer. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do, Will, I’m-“

She cuts off when Will staggers forward, reaching out to pull her into his arms but hesitating before touching her, worried she’ll break apart like mist and spun glass under his hands, unsure what he’s allowed. She solves that problem for him, surging forward into his chest and wrapping her arms around him, clinging to him desperately. Will immediately folds his arms around her, burying his face in her hair and clutching her as tight as he dares. She’s shaking against him, and Will’s breath is ragged as he smooths down her hair, his cheek pressed against the top of her head. After an endless moment that could have been hours or seconds, Will looks up at Hannibal again, lifting his head reluctantly.

“You… you didn’t… she’s alive. She’s alive,” is all he can manage. Hannibal nods, smiling, although there is still something not quite right in his eyes, a distance that should be long gone in this moment. “Time did reverse. The teacup that I shattered did come back together. A place was made for Abigail in your world. A place was made for all of us. Together.”

Will exhales shakily, pulling back from Abigail a bit to look her over, caressing her hair again before he turns back to Hannibal, who is still calm and composed from his place across from them. Will swallows hard. “You let her live. You kept her alive, all this time.” His voice doesn’t waver this time, and the words are stated almost without emotion, but Hannibal acknowledges the question in them with a nod. “For you, Will. For this moment. So that now there is nothing in our way of being a family.” Despite his words, Hannibal’s face holds little softness, and there is something dark behind his tone.

Will stares at him for a moment, before pulling away from Abigail completely and closing his eyes briefly as it comes to him. He swallows again as he opens his eyes to look at Hannibal.

“I was working against you,” he whispers, the admission falling from his lips like a stone. “I never killed Freddie Lounds, she’s been with Jack. I’ve been working with him to bring you down.” Will’s hands tremble slightly but he makes no move to still them.

Hannibal lets the knife from his sleeve drop into his hand.

“I let you know me,” he says softly, his eyes hard. “See me.” He steps forward, the knife plain in his hand. “I gave you a rare gift. But you didn’t want it.” Will shakes slightly, eyes wide, but makes no move to back away.

“Didn’t I?”

Hannibal’s jaw clenches for a moment. “You would deny me my life,” he said, stepping up to Will and placing the blade against his stomach. Will shakes his head frantically.

“No, n-no, not your life. Not-.” Hannibal interrupts, voice rising in anger and betrayal.

“My freedom, then, you would take that from me!” His knife presses into Will’s belly, waiting to gut him, to pull him open and apart. Will shakes his head wordlessly, words locked in his throat. “Confine me to a prison cell.” Hannibal looks over to Abigail for a moment, who watches with wide eyes by the doorway.

His voice was quieter now. “Did you believe you could change me, the way I changed you?” Will huffs out a shaking laugh, meeting Hannibal’s eyes.

“I already did.”

Hannibal watches him with dark eyes for a long moment. “Fate and circumstance have returned us to this moment. When the teacup shatters.” He holds Will’s gaze. “I forgive you Will. Will you forgive me?”

Will’s eyes widen, fixed on Hannibal’s face.

“N-no, don’t, don’t, no, nononono-“

“Shhh,” murmurs Hannibal softly, reaching out and grasping Will’s shoulder to turn him towards Abigail as he steps up behind Will, moving his hand up to caress the side of Will’s head as he brings the knife up from Will’s belly to his neck. Will stares desperately at Abigail, who has her hands over her mouth crying silently in the doorway.

Hannibal strokes his thumb behind Will’s ear. “You can make it all go away,” he whispers. “Put your head back. Close your eyes. Wade into the quiet of the stream.”

Will shakes in his arms, tears blurring his vision. He makes no move to twist away, trembling in Hannibal’s loose hold as he looks into Abigail’s eyes and feels Hannibal’s breath ghosting against his neck.

Feeling the tears start to slip down his face, Will closes his eyes and tips his head back against Hannibal’s shoulder, leaning into the man behind him and feeling the blade at his throat shift as he swallows. He waits.

Hannibal continues to stroke his thumb behind Will’s ear. He turns his head so his face was pressed into Will’s hair, shushing him gently as Will gasps, tears sliding down from the corners of his eyes into his hair. Will’s shuddering breaths scrap his throat against the curved blade Hannibal holds steady.

“Hushhhhh, hush now. Easy, Will. Walk into the stream. Let the waters part and close over your head. Let the current take you.”

Will’s gasps slowly gentled, breaths coming deeper and easier as Hannibal murmurs in his ear. He goes limp, Hannibal’s hand coming down from Will’s head to bring his arm across Will’s chest, supporting him. He lowers the blade, tossing it aside as he lowers them both to the floor, kneeling with Will half in his lap. Will’s breath hitches, and he turns his face blindly into Hannibal’s neck, still shaking slightly as Hannibal holds his hand out to Abigail. She steps forward hesitantly, kneeling down next to them as she takes Hannibal’s hand.

“Open your eyes, Will.”

Will blinks at them, his eyes unfocused and distant. He slowly focuses on Abigail, and the warmth of Hannibal against his back.

“It’s going to be alright, Will. I forgive you. We can leave here now. We can leave, together.”

Will’s hand comes up to grasp shakily at where Abigail is holding Hannibal’s hand. He nods silently into Hannibal’s neck. His voice rasps when he speaks.

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-betaed and written at three am, so I apologize for mistakes and typos. Let me know if you catch any.


End file.
